


Timing is Everything

by Gunshy Fiction (Defiler_Wyrm)



Series: Bedroom Hymns [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Comedy, Gen, Humor, Loki'd, Paganism, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defiler_Wyrm/pseuds/Gunshy%20Fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short take in which Gabe waits for the opportune moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timing is Everything

**Author's Note:**

> [ PLAYER 3 HAS JOINED THE GAME ]

“You should give Europe a try sometime. You think America’s got monsters? You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Sam stalls with a long pull from his Corona. He checks off a mental list of what exactly he _has_ seen against what could possibly top it. Considering he’s sitting across a motel table in Iowa from an archangel he’s hard-pressed to come up with anything that fits the bill. Admitting that would just feed the jerk’s ego, though, so instead he counters with, “Last time I got Dean on a plane it didn’t go so well.”

Gabriel gives him a glint-eyed look, eyebrows furrowed with incredulous amusement. Not that he’s surprised per se. The Winchesters’ codependency runs both ways. One corner of his mouth quirks. He stretches, arms up and spine arching off the chair, and dismisses the whole notion with “Yeahhh you’re right. On second thought the further you bozos stay away from my kids the better.”

The hunter blinks hard, frozen with the beer bottle an inch from his lips. “Kids, _your_ kids? You’re a father?”

He can’t mean Nephilim; if the lore’s true the angels that fathered them were all sent to Tartarus and Gabriel’s very much alive. Unless God stopped caring about that particular mess which would just be par for the course that leaves the whole pagan thing. His eyes remain on the archangel as he takes a drink.

Gabe’s, by contrast, roll up towards the ceiling and he tics his head sideways consideringly. “And a mother.”

Getting sprayed with cheap beer in the midst of Sam’s spit-take is totally worth it for the look on his face.


End file.
